The Pitfall of Perfection
Step Out Of Your Comfort Zone, People!
So…we start this episode recapping our challenge from last episode…which didn’t go so well. Ashley had a major anxious moment and decided that our plans were a little too far out of her comfort zone to be executed in the time we gave ourselves.
So instead of trying pickle ball, we tried Maple Cream Oreos. That makes perfect sense, right?? They got one star out of three, and Ashley went home the proud owner of an entire package of the things.
I was really wondering why the thought of playing pickle ball was so stressful for Ashley. I mean she’s a bad ass in my book, so I was actually kind of surprised that a silly little game got her all worked up. Come to find out, she believes her Mormon upbringing is to blame. Apparently, Mormon women are supposed to be absolutely fucking perfect at all times. No looking silly on a pickle ball court for them! Interestingly, a quick Google search of “Mormon Perfectionism” yields a surprising number of hits. This is a for real thing, guys!
We know that Ashley does not identify as Mormon, but that doesn’t change the fact that she grew up surrounded by Mormon values. As much as she’s tried to shed them, she still feels the need to be the perfect woman and partner.
And….because of that, she still has not shared her Quasimodo photo with her boyfriend. Well, Jon, if you didn’t see it last time, here’s your second chance!!
Those Vain Mormons
Also interesting (but not quite as interesting as that photo!) did you know that in 2007, Forbes named Salt Lake City the vainest city in America?
And to be fair, by most standards, Ashley really does have it together. She’s the owner of a successful small business, which in and of itself means she’s got it together, if you ask me. Plus, she’s a great person, she pays her bills on time, and she’s fucking hot…so I shall share this photo to prove my point, which is: on a normal day, Ashley is no Quasimodo.
Get It Together, Lady!
I mentioned a post I came across in the Skinny Confidential Facebook Group asking how other women “get their shit together.” Based on the comments, I have come to the conclusion that everyone’s definition of having their shit together is based on their personal priorities. Which means that there can be as many definitions of “having your shit together” as there are people in this world. If you think about it like that, everybody and nobody has their shit together, always.
Of course Tyler believes that having his shit together looks like being on time and (although he didn’t say this in the podcast Mel knows it to be true) being prepared. Seriously, he keeps a fucking trauma kit in his car. No a first aid kit…a TRAUMA KIT…with warming blankets and tourniquets.
If I had my shit together in my own way, my home, and the living beings inside of it for which I am responsible, would be in perfect running order at any given time.
Let’s be honest. Control freak Tyler might always be on time and prepared, but nobody else has it together all the time.
Case in point, and since we shared an embarrassing photo of Ashley, check out the background in these photos that I have taken but never shared before because I am so uncomfortable with the messy background being seen by the world. And for the record, now that I’m posting them, I can kind of see how ridiculous I am being. But it still makes me twitchy and I’m still embarassed!
Nobody’s Perfect, Obviously
And, with perfect timing this week, Ty sent me a link to this article about how relative perfection really is.
Funny thing is, this topic has been somewhat of a conversation in our lives for years. My abandoned blog has several posts about perspective and perfection dating back to 2015. So, this isn’t new to us, nor are the opinions we shared. It just goes to show that breaking free from the anxiety that surrounds what we think we should be, or should look like, or should do, will probably never go away. But we will keep discussing it amongst ourselves, and we will keep challenging each other to shed some of the weight that striving to be perfect places on our shoulders.
And maybe…just maybe…someday in the future…Tyler will show up ten minutes early instead of fifteen, Ashely will play pickle ball in front of her boyfriend, and I will post a photo with my messy house in the background without wanting to cry.
We’ll keep you posted.
And We’re Out
Oh, and we have no ending. Still.
Please, somebody save us from ourselves.
“Peace out, from Beauty and The Bleep!”